


Burn Me, Burn You

by wishingonafeather



Series: The Dragon and his Blogger [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Dragonlock, Drugged Sherlock, Reichenbach Falls, The Great Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonafeather/pseuds/wishingonafeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty is enjoying his games. But what does he actually want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to Arianedevere for the episode transcripts that I used

Jim Moriarty: the spider at the heart of an empire. Sherlock had been dancing around him for months, and finally here was his chance to meet the man face-to-face. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves and pushed open the door to the swimming pool. He held up the tiny USB stick, not the actual plans of course - those were safe with his brother.

 

"I brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. This is what you've been after isn't it?" It had to be. Why else would Moriarty have set up all those puzzles for him, if not to distract him from the stolen missile defence system plans?

 

There was a movement in the shadows. Sherlock's pulse sped up in anticipation, and then almost stopped as the jumper-clad figure of John Watson emerged. _John_ was Moriarty?

 

"Evening." John said, flatly. No, this was impossible. He knew John, had lived with him the best part of a year and a half.

 

"This is a turn-up, isn't it Sherlock? Bet you never saw this coming." John's voice was strained, and there was something odd about his voice pattern. Almost as if...

 

"Oh of course. Ear-piece, _stupid_." As hard as he tried, he couldn't stop a hint of relief creeping into his voice.  All of a sudden there was a low growl, and a tiger, as menacing as it was beautiful, staked out of the shadows, prowling around John, who stood stock-still. It was only his army training which was allowing John to keep his head.

 

"What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?" Moriarty said through John's mouth, as John's eyes moved from Sherlock to follow the black and orange beast that was pacing barely two feet from him.

 

"I would rather meet you myself. Call off your shifter and let's talk like civilised people." Anything it took to get that cat away from his friend.

 

"Oh, very clever. Well if that's what you really want." And then a new voice called out. "Sebastian, it looks like playtime's over for now." The voice was soft, with an Irish lilt, but all the more menacing for it. The tiger padded away from John, towards the voice, shifting as he walked into a tall, well-built man with a livid scar down one side of his face. Clearly ex-army like John, but dishonourable discharge rather than injury had brought him back from the front lines. He stopped just inside the doorway, standing in parade rest.

 

Finally, Sherlock caught a glimpse of the man calling himself Moriarty. He was small and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit.

 

"Jim Moriarty. Hi." He slowly walked away from his bodyguard, a grin stretching his face, betraying just a hint of the madness underneath. The way he moved reminded Sherlock of a snake, but he could see the faint hint of white and green streaks in Moriarty's dark hair, betraying what he really was.

 

"So our spider is actually a magpie. Well, here." He held out the memory stick. "Take it."

 

"Oh, that." Jim took it from Sherlock. "The missile plans. I could have got them anywhere." And with that he threw them into the pool.

 

"No, _my dear_. You see, what I've really been after, is _you_. Imagine; my own pet dragon." To Sherlock's surprise, John snorted. Moriarty turned slowly to face him.

 

"Is something funny, Johnny boy?" John shook his head.

 

"No. It's just that if you think that you can make this bastard do anything that he doesn't want to then you're even crazier than I though." Jim smiled and turned back to Sherlock.

 

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong. You see, I have my own spies in Baskerville. The serum you've been dancing around, it's one of my own ideas. You've even felt one of the prototypes yourself. It erases all human instinct and intellect, causing the shifter in animal form to truly become their creature body and mind. At first we had a few snags, mainly that it wore off very quickly, and once the person had shifted back they were completely themselves. Now, it lasts a lot longer, and I've added a little something extra. Obviously I don't want to have to deal with a wild dragon. No, instead it will switch your allegiance completely to me. I tried it out on dear Sebastian, and after a few doses we didn't even need it anymore. If it doesn't work out I would love a pair or dragon-skin - ". He cut off abruptly as John, seeing his chance, had launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground.

 

In a blur of orange, the tiger was back, pinning John on his back, canines a mere inch from John's right carotid artery. Sherlock, who up until now had remained composed, let out a shout, his eyes turning to their reptilian gold as he instinctively went to protect his friend. And then the tiger was gone as a single red sniper-sight made its way to Sherlock's forehead.

 

"Ah ah ah" Jim chided. "Although it would pain me to do so, if my snipers see so much as a scale pop up on you they'll blow that rather impressive brain of yours out of its skull." Slowly, Sherlock's eyes regained their usual colour, but still maintained his half-crouched position.

 

"Well seeing as it's obvious that I have no intention of cooperating with any plans that you have, I assure you that this whole venture seems fairly pointless, don't you think?" Unbelievably, Sherlock sounded almost _bored_!

 

"Well, I can promise that I have my methods." That sly, almost reptilian grin was back on Moriarty's face again.

 

"Oh, let me guess: I get killed. How very predictable."

 

"Kill you? Now why would I want to do that? No no no! Well, maybe eventually I will, I'll get bored of you and find a new toy. No Sherlock. I'll burn you."  He looked Sherlock up and down. "I'll burn the _heart_ right out of you."

 

Sherlock straightened up, looking down to stare Moriarty in the eye. "I have been reliably informed that I don't have one. And besides," He clicked his fingers, one of his miniature suns appearing in the palm of his hand. "How on earth do you expect to burn a _dragon_?"

 

This was obviously meant to try and intimidate the shorter man, but instead he just smiled. Stepping ever closer to Sherlock he whispered in Sherlock's ear.

 

"But we both know that's not quite true. I mean, just look at how you care about John Watson." Sherlock let out a snarl of his own, his dragon side making itself known.

 

All of a sudden, Jim pulled back.

 

"Well, I suppose that you'll want to think over my little proposition. Either you join me; or Johnny boy's cat food, and I mean that quite literally. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock turned to watch as Moriarty virtually bounced out of the door.

 

"Catch you later."

 

"No you won't." Moriarty sang back, followed by the sound of rustling feathers. Sherlock watched as the magpie fluttered up to the open window and disappeared from sight.

 

As soon as the coast was clear, John collapsed to the ground in relief, and Sherlock ran to catch him, his wings appearing and wrapping around them both in a protective cocoon. John was breathing heavily, temporarily speechless.

 

"What the _hell_ ," John panted when he could speak again, "Was _that_ about? And what did he say to you?" Sherlock shrugged.

 

"No idea. And he didn't tell me anything that you should worry about. Right now, we need to get you home, you look like you're about to go into shock."

 

Reluctantly, John let Sherlock sling his arm around his shoulders, and they headed off to find a cab.


	2. Prepared to do anything

Come and play.

Bart's Hospital Rooftop - SH

 

Jim Moriarty smiled at his phone.

"Sebastian." He called out. The sniper came into the room, smiling as he saw the look of glee on his master's face. "It looks like out scaly friend has made up his mind. Call our men at New Scotland Yard and Baker Street, and put someone on the buildings near St Bart's."

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

"No, Sherlock. Friends protect people."

 

Sherlock watched John leave, his heart heavy with John's parting jab. The beep of his phone averted his attention, and he pulled it out of his pocket to read two words.

 

I'm waiting ... JM

 

Sherlock took a deep breath. Standing up and pulling on his coat, he made his way to the rooftop. Just inside the door separating himself from his enemy, he stopped again, running once more through the thirteen scenarios that had presented themselves. He took another deep breath to steady his nerves and pushed open the door.

 

"Ah. Here we are at last - you and me, Sherlock, and Seb of course." Sherlock turned to see the tiger pad out from behind the roof entrance. His stomach fell - he hadn't expected the ex-sniper to be there.

 

"So," Moriarty turned Sherlock's attention back to the present. "Have you made up your mind yet, Sherlock? I believe you already know my terms: you join me or John Watson dies. It's very simple, really." He walked closer to Sherlock, until they were practically face-to-face. "In fact, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't. All of them." A look of pure fear started to creep into Sherlock's eyes.

 

"John."

 

"Not just John, everyone." He whispered

 

"Mrs Hudson"

 

"Everyone"

 

"Lestrade"

 

"Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. There's no stopping them now." Sherlock took a step back from the madman in front of him. "Unless you give me what I want." Sherlock slumped to the floor. He couldn't threaten Moriarty, he had no leverage on the man, and he couldn't kill him. And even if he did manage to stop him, he would still have to deal with the tiger. He put his head in his hands, searching his mind palace for anything that could get him out of this with himself and his friends in one piece.

 

_A dark alley, confusion running through his head, John cowering behind a skip. A constant stream of where-am-I-danger-scared in his mind. This must have been from when he had been drugged. And then there was John, his voice calm and soothing. A voice in his head screaming John-safe-friend, causing his mind to fight against whatever had been pumped into his system._

Sherlock opened his eyes. He knew what he had to do. While the drug worked on his mind, it did very little to his heart. Moriarty had said that it would switch his allegiance, but what he had seen of Sebastian Moran told a very different story; Sherlock knew the symptoms of Stockholm syndrome anywhere, and Moriarty had been too blind to see it.

 

He took a shuddering breath, giving the impression of a man that had finally given up. "Alright." He whispered in a broken voice.

 

"Sorry, dear. Speak up, I didn't catch that." Moriarty taunted.

 

"Alright!" Sherlock practically screamed in his face. "Just promise that you'll call them off as soon as it's done."

 

Moriarty looked down, a sneer on his face which turned into a grin of triumph.

 

"Well, I have to say that that was a lot easier than I had expected. I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in you, sentimental Sherlock."  Moriarty mocked Sherlock, as Sebastian Moran shifted back to his human shape, producing a single hypodermic syringe from his pocket and handing it to Moriarty.

 

"Well Sherlock, time for your medicine." Moriarty sang. He roughly grabbed Sherlock's arm, tugging back the sleeve before plunging the needle into the vein in the crook of Sherlock's elbow.

 

As soon as he had been released, Sherlock stumbled back. Already he could feel the drug spreading through his system, dulling his mind. And then the pain hit him like a truck. He screamed; his whole body was on fire! He heard the sickening cracks as his bones broke and reformed, felt the burn in his throat as his internal fire sparked into life. As his horns grew out he thought that his head would split open from the pain. But worst of all were the scales. He felt every single one push through his skin, shredding it into ribbons. And then, blissfully, nothing.

 

Jim Moriarty looked up at the dragon in front of him and laughed. The great Sherlock Holmes, reduced to nothing more than an oversized lapdog. It opened its eyes and looked straight at him, before letting out a puff of hot air and bowing its head.

 

"Now Sherlock; if you're even still in there; I'm a man of my word." He pulled out his phone, and hit speed-dial. "Stand down. It looks like our scaly friend has decided to cooperate after all." He put his phone away and turned to face the dragon. "It looks like John Watson will live to see another day. Now, where were we? Oh yes." He pulled out a gun (unloaded of course, not that he thought either Sherlock or Sebastian would realise) and handed it to Moran. "Sebastian here is going to try and shoot me. If you are really going to serve me, then I'll need a show of loyalty." Moran looked aghast at being asked to shoot his master. With shaking hands, he raised the gun, expecting Sherlock to jump in front of Moriarty.

 

_John Watson_

The name triggered something in the dragon. Memories of running down dark alleyways, of standing out of breath and laughing next to him in the hallway of 221B Baker Street. ' _That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever done.' 'And you invaded Afghanistan.'_

 

While the dragon was in no way Sherlock, he still felt an overwhelming need to protect John. And this man, who acted like he was his master, had threatened to kill him.

 

The last thing that Jim Moriarty saw was a burst of bright orange as the dragon, _his_ dragon, let out an ear-splitting roar, and spat a stream of fire at him. He didn't even have time to scream

 

Even as the flames left his mouth, Sherlock felt his mind clear. Looking down at the blackened figure that was once the most dangerous man in England, he pulled himself together until he was once again in his own two feet.

 

It wasn't long before Moran recovered from the shock, and when he did he let out a cry of anguish. Shifting back into his feline shape, he charged the consulting detective. Sherlock spun round, just in time for nearly 700 pounds of furious Siberian tiger to barrel into him, pushing him backwards towards the edge of the rooftop.

 

John Watson got out of the taxi at St Bart's Hospital, looking up just in time to see a familiar figure in a long coat being propelled over the edge by a great orange cat.

 

"SHERLOCK!"


End file.
